Fatality: A Series of Vignettes and Drabbles
by her m o c k i n g j a y
Summary: He said her skin smelled just like petals, said stupid things he knew she’d like. She said her life was like a motorway: Dull, grey, and long ‘til he came along.
1. Epiphany

Fatality: A Series of Vignettes and Drabbles

_Juxta_

**Disclaimer****: I do not own Death Note nor do I claim ownership of these lyrics. **

* * *

**Epiphany **

_**One**_

* * *

_He said her skin smelled just like petals, _

_Said stupid things he knew she'd like. _

_She said her life was like a motorway: _

_Dull, grey, and long 'til he came along._

* * *

Before Light, Misa had darkness.

A trite metaphor, she knew, but apt. From her parent's untimely demise and to her attainment of the Death Note, Misa surrounded, attracted, and even sought death.

Her life, she figured, had been—if she could sum it all up—nothing more than bland. Tedious, even.

Misa Amane knew that Misa-Misa was doing well. She smiled, she laughed, she _lived_. Misa-Misa was, indeed, happy and living the life that Misa had wanted. She also understood that looking at herself as two different people was an anomaly (a word she overheard Light use and quickly researched the meaning) but truly, she saw them as different.

Misa-Misa emerged when Misa Amane needed to hide, needed an ego boost, needed something else than what her current life as normal Misa was giving her. A vacant home, a blank past, an empty relationship full of unrequited love.

Thinking about that love now, she wasn't so sure that it was, precisely, love. A strong, unwavering devotion towards Kira indisputably, but what exactly was it that she felt for Light?

Misa had never actually sat down and thought about the consequences of loving the actual person behind Kira. She just had because, well, he was Kira and that was the same thing right? Light is Kira, after all, she ventured. So, if I'm in love with Kira—

_But, why_? She asked herself finally, halting her previous thought.

_Do I love what he, Kira, is doing? Ridding the world of criminals? _

She pondered this for a bit. A lot longer than any other thing she had thought over. She knew that was how her infatuation began. Kira was a hero worth a league of fans, minions, pawns, whichever suited his needs at the moment. Misa just wanted to be number one at the top of that list; she _had_ to be. Had to make him see that she was here, that she could be of use, and that she, unlike the masses, knew his secret method of murdering and had to make him distinguish that they shared something for she could do it to.

But that was just the beginning and now Misa actually knew Light—knew Kira—as a person, so the question manifested itself within her mind:

_Or… have I come to love him as person? _

Misa attempted to read her heart, then. Tried to remember how it reacted each time Light entered the room, or left it. So Misa Amane let Misa-Misa come out as well as she reminisced with her emotions.

Her heart had stuttered, nearly freezing with excitement for a moment the first time she glimpsed Light Yagami in the streets of Aoyama. Light's voice, low and smooth, made butterflies appear in the pit of her belly and his oddly precise yet drawled out words sent the critters into an energized frenzy. The light caramel of his eyes were, in truth, hard and unreadable but the burning anger stung across her skin, making goose flesh ripple.

She noticed the way his jeans always fit the same (she imagined shopping for him must be difficult) and she couldn't stare at the lower half of his body for too long because the fit left her breathless. Misa also loved his sweaters and button-up shirts, as they were so different from what she wore. He never, she realized, wore anything that didn't show off his lean figure.

Her favorite part of his body had to be his hands. Naturally tan, with long, slim fingers, and nicely shaped and well cared for nails. But she didn't figure their appearance to have anything to do with her infatuation.

Maybe they were her favorite because that's all of his bare skin (excluding his lips) that had ever touched her body and the impact was lasting. Or maybe, she ventured, it was because they were so graceful and quick as they skimmed along a key board. She wasn't exactly sure why but anytime she glimpsed them her body hummed.

So, now Misa wasn't sure if her attraction to Light was purely physical. But maybe that was part of love? Sex was always a major part of the relationships she read about in her steamy romance novels. It was difficult for her to tell the difference for the only love she had ever felt had been for her parents.

What she felt for Light was different.

She wanted to be with him always, craved a peek the taut skin beneath his delicate sweaters, and needed to be of use to him somehow.

Certainly she never felt that way about her mother of father.

_But maybe_, Misa thought, _there are different kinds of love and what I feel for Light is stronger, more powerful, and full of my devotion to him. _

Misa couldn't be sure but she figured she had just had an epiphany of some sort.

* * *

End.


	2. Irony

**Irony**

_**Two**_

* * *

_Actually dark appears to be the opposite of Light, but because of distortions in this physical world dark is not a true opposite._

_Irony is a disciplinarian feared only by those who do not know it, but cherished by those who do. _

* * *

Light knew he was personified irony. That fact didn't escape him, as if it could. He was well versed in the types of irony.

He found it faintly humorous that his very name opposed the sins he committed daily. It didn't deter him though. If anything it spurred him; rebelling against what he once was. Doing something that was considered dastardly, something he never would have done in the past as only Light Yagami, the straight-A student, all around perfect guy.

He considered this to be situational irony.

Or perhaps cosmic irony.

Yes, he assumed that his life was interfered with by the gods. He believed they chose him, though Ryuk thought otherwise, Light knew that only he could cut the path to righteousness and a perfect world through those undeserving of such an Eden.

The alternate Kira's only achieved to solidify his beliefs.

Verbal irony came to play in the witty battles of intelligence he held against L. These altercations lasted hours, bored Misa, and proved to Light that L was, as always, a force to be reckoned with.

The best of all though, he figured, was the bit of dramatic irony.

That he, Kira, aided a highly suspecting L in trying to capture a criminal that, indeed, happened to be himself. Not only that but L was also, knowingly or unknowingly—depending on how you look at it, Light knew—being assisted by the second Kira as well. L, the best detective in the world was surrounded by two Kira's, highly suspected them both, had hard-core evidence of one, yet captured neither.

Light considered this to be the greatest irony of all.

* * *

End.


	3. The Stool

* * *

**The Stool**

_**Three **_

* * *

She hated this.

She _seriously_ hated this.

Misa huffed and puffed, crossing her arms over her chest and made general sounds of annoyance and anger, hoping the show would make L leave.

She should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

Honestly, she thought as she grumbled to herself under her breath, how rude of him to sit in on such an important day! It was their nine month anniversary and Misa would be darned if the weasely detective would ruin it for her. Light was, of course, spending the supposed date time talking to L about the case. As if they didn't do that 24/7?

Glaring at L had no effect, she soon realized, which only proved to make her angrier. She looked at him, all curled up in the chair in that odd way of his, picking at a piece of cake lightly with a fork as he spoke, as if the mere act of touching the sweet was enough to soothe whatever beast lay inside him that craved for sugary desserts.

Misa's eyes followed the fork and landed on the vanilla-iced treat. Her stomach quivered, craving the soft cake that was, most assuredly, delectable (L only had the best of everything) but as he picked up a bite, she knew that eating it would kill the diet plan she was right now.

Not that it was that hard to resist, Misa told herself straightening her spine as L's eyes met hers. Not when he was the one holding the damn cake.

She couldn't stand the way his toes moved on the chair and after he sat in one place she couldn't sit there until it had been cleaned. Misa's foot phobia was a difficult force to reckon with.

Misa'd like to see what would happen if someone gave him a stool to sit on. She decided that it would be, without a doubt, severely entertaining to watch L struggle to curl up on something like that.

A smile curved unbidden upon her lips at the thought and her annoyance melted a degree as she imagined how the scene would play out.

* * *

End.


	4. Good Intentions

**Good Intentions **

_**Four **_

**Warning**_: A bit AU, I believe. I haven't seen/ read all of Death Note, but for some reason I think Misa makes it through it all. Possibly I'm completely wrong. _

* * *

_The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. _

* * *

Misa figured that this was a good way to die. With Light by her side, Ryuk slouching against the wall to her left, snickering and muttering something about how interesting humans were, and L, of all people, doing CPR.

It was useless, she recognized, since this was all part of his plan. After all, it was written in his Death Note that she was to die and Misa of all people knew that what was written couldn't be altered.

But as she coughed and sputtered, choking on her own blood and feeling the sharp pain of Mello's bullet within her lung, Misa seriously wished it was different. She wasn't ready to die, she decided. Especially since she figured she would be stuck in purgatory for eternity. Or possibly, she hypothesized, maybe she wouldn't be anywhere. Perhaps an afterlife was forbidden for those who murdered using a shinigami's Death Note.

Misa knew Light didn't believe in Heaven or Hell, but she certainly did. Try as she might, she couldn't help but hope that Heaven would open its gates to her. After all, her use of the Death Note had been sparse before Light. She had just wanted to help him, a man who wanted a better world. How could that be wrong?

A tear leaked out as her eyes squeezed shut tightly when a wave of pain convulsed her body. Fresh blood rolled down her lips and she frowned mentally at the thought of how unattractive she must look right now to Light.

_Light… _

His eyes were hard and detached, cold, but undeniably intense as they gazed upon her impending death. They roved her body as her chest was racked with wet coughs. He wouldn't meet her eyes and Misa's heart clenched.

L had stopped compressions and was silent. She noted that, oddly enough, he was sitting up almost perfectly straight. His face was rigid, lips pulled tightly into a thin white line. The dark smudges beneath his eyes seemed even starker, if that were possible. Misa hadn't thought so before.

Misa wondered if L did have emotions. Previously he had shown no signs of having any, but now…

She wondered how many allies and friends he lost that made him so detached.

A shudder worked its way up her body and her vision dimmed, almost going completely black before returning.

She started crying again whenever the pain in her body started lessening; she knew that couldn't be a good sign.

A cool palm gripped hers and she was surprised when Light leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, brushing her bangs back in the process. When he pulled away she saw tears trailing down his face and Misa knew it was all an act. Before, with his cold eyes, that had been the real Light, the real Kira. But he had to be Light Yagami, the boy dating Misa Amane, and whenever someone's girlfriend dies, certainly they cry.

This made her tears leak faster.

She couldn't force herself to believe that he honestly loved her anymore. He might've loved her undying devotion and general servitude, but never actually her.

Her breath became stuttered and she cried out in her mind, wishing she could turn back time and refuse Light when he asked her for her death, telling her it was necessary. Misa knew though, that she could never refuse him.

Stomach heaving, she gagged as blood rushed up from her throat. L leaned towards her when the fit was over, resting cool fingers on her forearm, an offering of comfort she supposed.

Misa wanted to call out to Light, wanted to tell him she honestly loved him and always would. She looked at him, crying softly with dry and fresh blood caked onto her face and body, and saw something flicker in his eyes.

Before she could give it any thought her body convulsed and Misa Amane died.

* * *

End.


	5. Tragic Hero

**Tragic Hero**

_**Five **_

* * *

_But he that is blind in his understanding, which is the worst blindness of all, believes he sees as the best, and scorns a guide. _

_Their blindness and arrogance are as solid as an iron mountain. _

* * *

Light was blind, Misa realized.

Not the usual blindness, for his vision was perfect, but blind in the sense that he saw only what he wanted to see and what he thought L saw. So as to predict L movements while he was predicting Light's, she figured.

It was a noticeable blindness, a weakness to all those who recognized what it was. She prayed L was blind as well, but knew not to hope for too much. Faith wasn't something she counted on anymore.

Light, the smartest guy she knew (excluding L for she didn't agree with his methods at times) could be so dumb in his arrogance. Kira's unwavering vanity appeared to take hold of Light, turning him into a dark person, conceited and haughty because he believed he was all-powerful.

Legions of minions supported Kira. His embrace was worldwide. Before, she envisioned him a king, a heavy gold crown with rubies and sapphires adorning it. Afterward, she foresaw his ascent from a mere mortal king to a God. While still human, his rule would have a lasting affect upon the world, not just one country or continent.

But Misa discovered his weakness one night and she worried. Worried it would be exposed that he was dependent upon himself and only himself in the long run. Worried his blindness would cause his downfall if hubris didn't.

Perhaps that was part of hubris, though. To have this fault, this faint but undeniable flaw in someone so powerful.

After all, every hero has a flaw and Misa certainly considered Light a hero, tragic or not.

* * *

Thank you to all those who reviewed. It's highly appreciated and the positive support keeps me writing.


	6. Gathering Storm

**Gathering Storm**

_**Six**_

**Warning: **_Spoiler for final volume of the manga._

* * *

_There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm. _

* * *

It had finished raining but the air still held moisture in the form of glittery, swirling mist. The sparse green of the foliage was sharp and renewed, stark against the purple twilight. Angry black clouds had built again and were rolling in from the west, their menacing front enhanced by the eerie fog and abnormally quiet wildlife. Distantly, thunder growled a warning as it began its cacophony of destruction. The air had a charged, electric feel, tangible enough to make the hair on her arms and neck prickle as they erected in alarm.

Misa gazed at the approaching tempest with curious eyes for she had never actually had the valor to brave the frontal threat of a severe storm. She traced invisible patterns on the black leggings she wore and huddled deeper within her favorite sweater; it was cream-colored, heavyweight Irish knit and stolen from Light's closet. Hot chocolate was cooling in sweet-scented waves of steam beside her. She had chosen a large Christmas mug, all reds and greens and swirling gold glitter even though Christmas had been a month prior.

The wind turned sharply cool and nipped at her nose, and it succumbed to the chill, turning a faint shade of pink. Misa held wildly flapping bangs away from her eyes and gazed at the storm, wondering if the thunder and rain and lightening would die down and become snowflakes overnight. Another gust attacked the loose pieces of hair around her face and Misa tugged the black cloth of her headband down around her neck so she could gather up her lengthy blonde tresses into a tighter ponytail. She repositioned the headband before grabbing her hot chocolate.

The warmth of the mug stung against Misa's chilled fingers as the heat seeped in and chased away the cold. Sipping the sweet drink she tucked her knees up to her chest, listening as the CD player within the house whirred and CD's changed places. Mairi Campbell's soft voice drifted out, singing _Auld Lang Syne. _It was by far the best version of the Christmas tune Misa had heard and she found herself closing her eyes, leaning her head back against the brick behind her, and awaiting the gathering storm with a gentle peace in her heart and mind. One she hadn't felt since before Light died.


	7. Infection

**Infection**

_Seven _

* * *

_Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of_

* * *

Misa Amane lost her virginity to Light Yagami exactly three months, two hours, and fifteen minutes ago.

Oh, she knew it was probably odd to keep counting the days (hours, minutes, whatever.) after it had happened but she couldn't help it. It had been such a spectacular day!

At least, she kept trying to tell herself that.

Misa fought really hard to forget how crazed his face had looked; how very ungentle he'd been; how, when she cried out in pain and not pleasure, Light would thrust harder and faster.

Misa had noticed the difference in Light's demeanor when L died—when L was murdered, actually. She'd watched the last bit of sanity drain from his eyes, leaving behind a maniacal, honey-colored gleam.

It'd been three days after L's death when Light had come to her. In the dead of night, he stripped her of the frilly nightgown she loved and laid his claim upon her body.

Her sheets had been badly stained with her blood but she couldn't make herself get rid of them. Misa never used them anymore, though; just kept the flannel secretly hidden in the top of her closet.

They still made love.

(She preferred illusion than truth)

She still loved him faithfully.

(She couldn't force herself away, to leave him alone)

Misa was, after all, a fanatic when it came to Light. He was her addiction, her infection, and she had no intentions of ever curing it.

* * *

End.

Probably the worst insert so far. Sorry. I have about four other chapters started. But the inspiration just hasn't been flowing. My muse is apparently on vaca.


	8. Goodbye

**Goodbye **

_**Eight **_

* * *

_I remember when we kissed.  
__I still feel it on my lips.  
__The time you danced with me,  
__With no music playing.  
__I remember the simple things.  
__I remember until I cry.  
__The one thing I wish I'd forget,  
__The memory I wanna forget,  
__Is goodbye._

* * *

Her cheeks were red, raw; her eyes swollen and painfully dry.

She'd used all of her tears already.

It didn't stop her from dry heaving though, and clutching to the dress shirt of his that she wore. The lone item covering her body. The only undergarments she owned were ones to entice him, but now…

Her knees bumped her chin as she fiercely curled in on herself. Fingers buried themselves into blonde hair and fisted, tugged; tried to make her forget the burning ache in her chest. Her hot cheek was plastered to the cool tile floor, a welcoming feeling if only the tears hadn't made it stick uncomfortably.

She untangled her fingers from her hair and ripped at the dress shirt, staring down at her chest. It was impossible, but she saw no gaping hole where her heart used to be. She grasped at it, held her hand in place, felt the beating of her heart.

Air forced its way out of her lungs in a keening cry.

Her face scrunched up, eyes shut tightly, teeth clenched, lips pulled back wide, nose crinkled. She fisted her hands over her eyes, attempting to block out the truth. Her mind was trying to go blank, trying to make her forget, trying to help her grieve.

Stuttering, her breathing was harsh and painful. Weak mewls whispered out every so often and her body trembled, still in shock.

Taking a deep, gasping breath, she cried out his name. Screamed it. Hoped the world would hear and grieve with her for the loss of him.

Wiping her eyes, she stared at her fingers, black from mascara, and recalled the last time they had touched him. They had been hugging, her fingers laced in the hair at his neck.

She dragged his shirt to her nose, attempting to remember his scent. Moaning in anguish, she let go of the soft cotton, watching as it unwrinkled from the force of her fingers. It barely held his scent. It killed her that she couldn't remember it without aid.

Gathering strength, she forced wobbly knees to extend so she could stand. She grabbed onto the marble countertop for stability.

Staring in the mirror, she didn't even recognize herself. Lifeless, swollen eyes, red cheeks, dripping nose. Her normally immaculate hair had mostly been torn out of the ponytail, though the black band still dangled, attached to a few hairs. Tear tracks stained her cheeks and when she brought her hands up to cover her eyes, she felt the stickiness of left over from desolation.

She shook her head, still unbelieving. But as she peeked through her fingers, getting one last look, the truth was personified in her.

Screaming, she lashed out, punching she mirror for all she was worth. Glittering shards rained down, iridescent beauty in her moment of suffering. She watched as they fell, covering the countertop, tinkling into the sink. When she looked up, she saw what was left. Of the mirror and of her.

Only half of her face could be deciphered in the shattered mirror.

And Misa knew that was all that was left of her, now that Light was dead.

* * *

End.


End file.
